Even if you are not a poetry person, there is a strong chance you have read the title poem in Maggie Smith’s Good Bones. Why? Because, I regret to say, it gets passed around every time there’s a notable school shooting. And that is often. It’s the one that goes: Life is short, though I keep this from my children. […] I am trying to sell them the world. Any decent realtor, walking you through a real shithole, chirps on about good bones: This place could […]